Halfblood and Bad bloods

ELIJAH'S POV

The bastard! I should have figured he was somewhere lurking, just waiting for the opportunity to tear me apart.

It was only a matter of time before the press found out which of our many houses I was residing in. Then, I would bear the brunt of my father's wrath should they have something on me that suggested that anything that my bastard of a brother's paper was right.

I squeezed the paper in fury just thinking about it.

I had to act fast. I immediately marched back inside.

I stormed towards the bedroom, my mind racing with thoughts of the impending disaster that threatened my future.

The press finding out about my indiscretions could spell the end of everything I had worked so hard to achieve. I couldn't let that happen.

"Deborah, hurry up!" I barked, my voice laced with urgency as I reached the bedroom where she was lounging lazily on the bed. "You need to leave, now!"

Deborah shot me a glare, her eyes flashing with irritation. "What's the rush?" she demanded, her tone dripping with disdain. "Why are you sending me off like some cheap whore?"

I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to snap at her. Instead, I tossed the morning paper onto the bed with a frustrated growl. "Because if the press catches wind of us being together, it could ruin everything," I explained tersely, my patience wearing thin.

Deborah's eyes widened as she picked up the paper, her gaze scanning the headline with growing horror. "The bride that never was?" she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Is this about the wife, Imogen?"

I nodded curtly, my jaw clenched in frustration. "Yes, courtesy of my brother. If the press finds this house and connect the dots to us, to an affair, it could mean the end of my inheritance," I replied, my voice tight with anxiety.

Deborah hesitated for a moment, her expression clouded with uncertainty. "But is it really that bad if the press finds out about us?" she asked tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper. "There is nothing wrong with being in love, Elijah. You and I are in love. If your parents weren't such narcissists. You would be with me, not her."

I let out a humourless chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief as I dressed.

She was deadly wrong. Imogen had been the perfect wife for me in the eyes of my parents. No one else could really compare. Our families were close. But the dynamics were not even and my parents liked that. A dynamic where they always had the upper hand.

Imogen was also accomplished. She did ballet until her legs went bad. She played the piano because my father thought women of the new generation were neglecting the art of music. She had academic prowess too. Finished at the top of her class. In a no-name university of course. That way, I had a model wife who didn't threaten me or them. If Imogen wasn't in the picture. Someone who wasn't as perfect would be forced into the puzzle piece.

But I did care for Deborah. She was a wild card. Nothing like Imogen.

"You're cute, Deborah, but not that cute," I finally retorted, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, get dressed. We need to leave before it's too late."

Reluctantly, Deborah began to dress, her movements slow and hesitant as she processed the gravity of the situation.

I finished before her and watched as she struggled to slip on her heels.

The sight caused my blood to burn so I snatched them from her hands, tired of her antics as I grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the house.

"Elijah, let me go!" She yelled and struggled to free herself from my grip but it was useless. I latched on to her and did not let go until we were both outside of the house.

Once outside, I tossed her heels on the floor for her to wear while I surveyed the area, scanning the street for any signs of prying eyes. It was imperative that we weren't seen together. I turned to Deborah, my tone firm as I spoke. "We need to separate here," I said, my voice cold and commanding.

But to my dismay, Deborah refused to comply. "Why can't you just drive me home?" she demanded, her voice giving a scoff.

I clenched my jaw, my patience wearing thin. "I can't risk being seen with you," I replied curtly, reaching into my wallet and handing her some money. "Take a taxi."

Deborah's jaw tensed as she glared at me. "Yeah. Because I am a fucking plague. Elijah, I am starting to think I am just a second choice to you." she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

I let out a weary sigh, my frustration reaching its breaking point. My inheritance was on the line and she was talking about the mundane. What did I even see in her?

"I don't have time for your drama," I snapped, turning away from her and heading towards my car.

When I entered the vehicle, I glanced at Deborah through the rearview mirror. She stood alone on the sidewalk wearing a look of betrayal. But I couldn't afford to dwell on her feelings. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

Like putting a bastard in his place.

The engine roared to life as I started the car, the sound reverberating through the quiet street. With a final glance at Deborah, I pulled away from the curb and drove off into the road, leaving her behind in a cloud of dust and uncertainty.

It wasn't long before I reached the bustling entrance of the Portland informant.

The building had grown in size since I last laid eyes on it, a testament to the success my stepbrother had achieved without our father's financial backing.

A vein twitched in my temple as I acknowledged the thought. Had Isaac risen in our father's esteem?

I pushed aside the questions gnawing at my mind as I made my way through the bustling lobby.

Security personnel eyed me warily when I approached, suspicion evident in their wary glances. But I paid them no mind. My focus was on finding my brother.

I felt bile rise in my throat for giving him that title.

"Where is the bastard?" I demanded, my voice dripping with contempt.

Immediately, I was met with resistance from the security personnel, who attempted to block my path.

"Mr. Rossi, this is a business organization. You cannot–"

I fixed my gaze on the one who dared to speak. "Do you want me to ruin your life?" I asked, seizing him by the tie. "I could do it easily with the flick of my wrist. With just a single word. You're just security, so I suggest you don't waste my breath. I am cruel when I want to be."

The man understood, his eyes widening in fear. Of course, he would. The Rossi family practically ruled the city. It didn't matter if he was working for my stepbrother. Isaac was just an illegitimate child that my father had with some singer whore. I was the true legitimate son of my father. Rossi ran in my blood. Nothing like the sickening puddle that ran in his.

I could ruin his life if I wanted to.

He stepped out of my way, and I made sure to push past them, reminding him that he was nothing but a cockroach in my presence as I stormed into the heart of the building.

Isaac's office was at the end of a long corridor, its imposing presence a stark contrast to the chaos of the surrounding environment.

With a sense of grim satisfaction, I barged through the door loud enough to gain his attention.

My gaze found Isaac who was seated behind a desk and having a fine time playing CEO.

Isaac looked up. His expression was a mask of smug satisfaction as he regarded me with amusement. "Well, well, if it isn't my dear stepbrother," he greeted me in a mocking tone, gesturing for me to take a seat. "How was the wedding?"

Ignoring his invitation, I slammed the newspaper down on his desk, my anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I got your wedding gift. What is the meaning of this madness?" I demanded, my voice dripping with contempt.

I wanted to smash his face till he begged for his life but I would never stoop to the level of a bastard that was practically grovelling to have the life I was born into.

Isaac's eyes flickered with amusement. I watched him pick up the newspaper. I also watched his lips slowly curl into a smirk. "My writers do what is necessary to sell papers," he replied casually as if dismissing my concerns. "Although, we never tell a lie."

I clenched my fists, struggling to contain my rising fury. "And what about my bride?" I seethed, my voice trembling with rage. "What about the innocent bride? Does she deserve to be dragged through the mud in your rag of a newspaper?"

Isaac's smirk widened into a grin. "Any woman who can stomach marrying a man like you deserves nothing but the worst. But you shouldn't worry about her. The metrics have shown that public support is in her favor. She was the one who was jilted by her husband on her wedding night, was she not?"

I gritted my teeth, my patience wearing thin. "This is not a game, Isaac," I snapped, my voice echoing off the walls of the office. "You are trying to undermine me. But it will not work."

Isaac's grin faltered, replaced by a cold, calculating gaze. "Why not?"

"Because family and name are the two things our father cherishes," I continued, my voice dripping with disdain. "The same name his bastard son is dragging through the mud. Did you think you would gain his respect for this? No. Only a child who has received love would crave something else. You think you'll earn Daddy's love with your little exposé?"

His grin faltered, replaced by a mask of thinly veiled rage. I could see his hands clench into fists, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"You think this will earn you the Rossi love and respect? Never," I sneered, refusing to back down. "You've always been the black sheep of the family, Isaac. And no amount of spare change or power will ever change that."

But Isaac bounced back quickly, his signature grin returning as if nothing had happened. "I do not want our father's love, brother," he retorted, his words dripping with venom. "I've seen what his love has done to you. It hasn't made you a man. Just a child who abandons his wife in hotels to cavort with some lowlife."

My eyes narrowed dangerously, my temper flaring at his audacity. "Watch your–"

"What I want, however, is to tear the man's faith and love for you," Isaac interrupted, his voice dripping with malice. "Make the blind man see that maybe you aren't fit to inherit the one thing he cherishes more than his name and so-called family."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, the realization dawning on me like a dark cloud looming overhead. Was the bastard eyeing the company?